


Compensation

by vonherder



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:29:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonherder/pseuds/vonherder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He finds the letter wedged under a stack of papers that he’s been meaning to get to for the last few years. It’s thick and a little heaving and it doesn’t look like something that he would have left for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compensation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt right here: http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/15292.html?thread=33185468#t33185468
> 
> The gist of the prompt is: Tony gets so desperate for time with Howard that he asks how much Howard makes in an hour, and then gets the money himself to buy Howard's time just to hang out with him.

He’d been meaning to clean off his desk. Maria and Jarvis—Obie, even—had been nagging at him to do it for _years_. It was hardly his fault it was so messy, anyway. He was hardly ever at the damn thing, always in the lab or at the office or traveling. It wasn’t his fault everyone kept piling things there.

He finds the letter wedged under a stack of papers that he’s been meaning to get to for the last few years. It’s thick and a little heaving and it doesn’t look like something that he would have left for himself.

It seemed to be addressed for him, in any case. 

He ripped it open and startled. The bills—nearly 700 dollars’ worth—fell out first. A tiny, handwritten note followed, dated May 28, 1977. 

_I know youre busy but I would like you to come to my birthday party tomorrow. Mom says this is how much you make an hour so I can compensate_ —” the word looks like it has been erased a few times and, finally, rewritten in Jarvis’ neat script—“ _you for the time. I’ll understand if you can’t make it, but you are the only thing I asked for this year._

_Love from Tony_

Howard sagged back into his chair. Tony, he’d… The boy had tried to _pay_ for Howard’s time. And he hadn’t… Eight years it had been sitting there, hidden under a stack of papers and reports that he didn’t even _need_. 

And Tony.. Gods, he hadn’t even made it to the party. Hadn’t even wished the boy a happy birthday. He’d just… He was busy.

Howard scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned and… Oh. _Oh_ , obviously. He grinned and riffled through the drawers until he found an envelope and a blank page. He quickly scribbled out a note and stood, shoving it and the bills into the envelope as he fled the room.

He would never admit it, but he practically ran to the other side of the house, eager and excited.

He stopped short and stared at the closed door. Would Tony even... He would like it. He would enjoy this, Howard told himself and straightened. This would be fun and good and right, for a little while at least. He raised his hand and knocked.

Silence. Just silence.

“Tony?” he called out and knocked once more on the door. Still no answer from inside, no sound at all. Howard frowned and pushed the door in slowly. 

The room was empty. Nearly, at least; a few scattered books and action figures still sat on his book case and the bed was made. A t-shirt here, a shoe there. But everything that made it Tony’s was gone.

 _Tony_ was just… gone.

He backed out of the room and closed the door. And then just stood there and stared at it. He didn’t know what to do, if there was anything _to_ do. Tony was just… Where had he even gone? _Why_ had he gone?

Quiet footsteps sounded behind him. “Sir?” Jarvis asked, “Are you all right?”

“Where, um,” he swallowed thickly, “where is Tony?”

“Sir, Anthony is gone.”

“ _Where_ , Jarvis?” Howard growled out as he turned, sharp and almost frantic. “Where is my son?”

Jarvis softened, slightly, something like pity in his warm, old eyes. “MIT, sir,” he said, voice gentle and soothing. “He’s been there for some time.”

Howard sagged. Right. MIT. Tony was already enrolled at fucking MIT. He was gone. His boy was gone. Howard looked at the envelope in his hand and sighed, “Thank you, Jarvis.” 

The man didn’t say anything as Howard turned away, just laid a gentle hand on his shoulder as he passed.

The walk back to his office seemed longer and lonelier and infinitely quieter. 

He dropped the envelope onto the desk and heaved a sigh. It was a stupid idea. Tony wouldn’t have even… He would have just… It was a stupid, stupid idea.

Howard poured himself a large tumbler of whisky and, with one final look at the envelope, headed for the lab. He had that… That thing Obie had asked about. Yeah. He had things to do. He was busy.

***

Tony had not been to the mansion in years. If it weren’t for Fury’s orders he would have continued to ignore the damn place. But, _no_. He had to play nice and provide space for the Avengers. 

He didn’t stick his tongue out at the Director, but it was a close thing.

The house smelled like… old, really. It was the only word that Tony could come up with; the place smelled like _old_. The air was stale and dusty and dead.

He heaved a sigh and trudged toward the stairs. He would clean out his old room, first. Who knew what embarrassing things he’d left there? He would look through Howard’s office and labs later. He didn‘t think that he would be ready for that. Not for a while, at least. Maybe he’d even have Cap help—the man might appreciate that.

His room was just as empty as he remembered leaving it, only now covered in a thick layer of dust. He hadn’t been back in his room since he left for MIT, hadn’t even stayed at the house for his… For the funerals. 

He swallowed thickly and surveyed the room.

Everything was where he expected it to be—lone books and toys scattered over dusty shelves, a few stray shoes any shirts on the floor, things forgotten in his haste—except for a dash of white where there should have been none.

On his old pillow was a thick, faded envelope. _Tony_ was scrawled across the front is shaky red ink, messy but clearly Howard’s hand. That was certainly not something he remembered, nor expected.

With a steadying breath, Tony moved forward and snatched it up. He ripped it open without much thought, only to startle when the bills tumbled out and onto the floor at his feet. It didn’t make any sense. Why would Howard leave him money like this? Why would—

A white page slipped free and drifted down to the pile at his feet. Oh. _Oh_. But, it couldn’t possibly be that. Could it? Howard would never… Would he? The bills were still crinkled from where he’d clutched them tight to his chest and worn thin from where he’d counted them daily just to see if he’d had enough yet.

Tony’s hands trembled as he retrieved the page but he paid them no mind. His eyes were on the scribbled words. His lip trembled as he began to read the page clutched too-tight in his hands. 

_Hey, kiddo. Sorry it took so long to find your letter. I’m never going to put anything important on that desk again, else I lose it for another eight years. It’s a little late for a birthday party, I know. And I know you’re busy these days—what are you working on now?—but I thought I might be able to steal an hour of your time? I can compensate you. I don’t know what you’re making these days, but I hope this will cover it. It should buy me a half-hour_ at least _._

_Love,  
Dad_

The note had been crossed out in red pen, and beneath that, slightly shakier and messier, was a final sentence. His knees gave out from under him and he sank to the floor. Tony covered his mouth with a shaking hand as he tried to remember how breathe.

_Sorry I missed you._


End file.
